"First, let's stop the bleeding."
When a person loses a limb, they're usually incapacitated. Actually, rather than incapacitation, it would be more accurate to call it a fatal injury.
Considering that the elegant suicide method of this era involves lighting candles in a bathtub and slitting one's wrists, one can easily imagine how severe an injury it is to have your forearm hacked with an axe, far beyond merely cutting your wrist with a kitchen knife.
Even the Four Emperors who once commanded the seas on that distant Earth could only glare at Big-Gomchi's eyes while wailing like a child after losing an arm, unable to exert any real force. That's why.
So, stop the bleeding before death.
-Click.
Ivan deftly removed the cap of the Healing Potion with one hand. The viscous red liquid swirled ominously.
With delicate fingers, he peeled back the wound and slowly poured the Healing Potion onto the severed surface that was gushing blood.
Naturally and inevitably, screams echoed through the corridor.
"Aaaaarrrgghhh!!!"
"Now, now, conserve your breath."
Ivan, being a civilized person, admonished him politely. Though not particularly young, this junior seemed to be quite the drama queen.
"Tell me what you heard from Alexandr. What did he want?"
"A man of Droan... does not... yield to torture...!"
"Torture? This is medicine."
Ivan shook his head at this outrageous accusation and closed the cap of the Healing Potion. He placed the axe in his other hand on the severed surface.
"Hnngh...?!"
"The bleeding has mostly stopped. Good."
He nodded coldly and slowly pushed the axe. The blade dug half an inch into the cauterized surface (literally seared shut by the Healing Potion's remarkable effects), drawing drops of blood.
"That was treatment before, and this is torture."
"You... bastaaaaard...!!"
"Let's see."
Ivan checked the remaining amount in the potion and gave it a short shake. The still-full bottle sloshed heavily.
"I can do this about five more times. So, I'll ask five short questions."
"Kill... me...!"
"That's the plan. Dionarr Eriksson. Your fate will be determined by orders, but the process is at my discretion. Answer me."
What did Alexandr want to gain from this mess?
Where is Alexandr now?
How many of you are there, and from where did you start infiltrating this country?
One by one, without rushing.
Ivan, being a person with modern ethical awareness, did not prefer torture. He rather detested it, to be precise.
But at the same time, he was a man who had lived in this era for 30 years, and a soldier who had spent most of his life on battlefields.
Regrettably, he had to sacrifice some ethical principles for the sake of efficiency in carrying out orders.
Since even Kim Seon-woo had agreed to this matter, Ivan unhesitatingly raised the axe blade.
Cut.
And reattached.
Screams echoed through the corridor. A summer night with rain falling in the darkened hallway.
Since superhumans have good vision, this level of darkness was hardly dark at all. Therefore, even in his extreme pain, Dionarr could see Ivan's face.
If only he had smiled, or shown indignation. If he had displayed any emotion, it would have been at least human.
But the Ivan that Dionarr saw was as emotionless as a woodsman chopping a tree. Like a fisherman hauling in nets. Like a farmer swinging a sickle.
There was work to be done, and means to do it, so he did it.
Exactly that level of emotion was all that could be felt in this mechanical, repetitive act.
By the time Dionarr's blood and sweat evaporated, releasing the scent of fear.
That is, from the moment Ivan finished the second "treatment."
He had become a remarkably fluent and coherent speaker of civilized society (both decent and sincere), explaining to Ivan everything he knew.
While Healing Potions only treat external wounds (all who tried using them for internal injuries died), kind medical treatment can, as a side effect, provide psychological counseling and psychiatric therapy.
Ivan, satisfied with this long-established truth proven once again, listened attentively to Dionarr's logical testimony.
Leaving behind the junior who might have been a troublesome opponent had his skills matched his momentum and initiative, Ivan walked up the stairs.
He had used up all his Healing Potion. Though he wouldn't need it anymore today, it was regrettable to lose the essential equipment he always carried.
Being a cautious person, Ivan had to repeat the same questions several times to verify that Dionarr's initial testimony was true, thus improving the resolution of the statement.
Dionarr unfortunately breathed his last during this process. Fortunately, his testimony proved to be true from the beginning, so Ivan could also wish peace for his soul.
-Thud, thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. Since there were no more hostile presences to be detected, Ivan walked with deliberately louder steps.
The mission would be complete once he rescued the kidnapped youngsters. That was fortunate.
Since he had cleared the stages that those kids should have overcome themselves, Ivan felt obligated to personally conduct training for Asidis, Isabelle, and Oskar.
As always, time is short.
Ivan smiled faintly as he walked to the first office in the corridor and grabbed the doorknob, but...
"...?"
He let go and stepped back.
There was no presence, yet he could sense magical power. From that office at the end of the corridor.
Not the magic of an artifact or magical engineering product. It was the kind of magic emitted by a living creature, the kind a magician preparing a spell would emit, yet without any biological presence.
He took a deep breath and circulated magic through his body. His nerves accelerated, making the sound of raindrops slow down.
Even focusing on his hearing, the only signs of life in this corridor were the nervous breathing of students in the office right in front of him.
A magician preparing magic while simultaneously concealing their presence even from themselves?
That's not just strange, it's impossible. Even Beolgrin couldn't do that. Magic isn't a simple discipline that can be performed while controlling breathing and heartbeat.
A magician of that caliber would essentially be equivalent to a Demon King, but it makes no sense that the Demon King who died four years ago would suddenly resurrect and hide in the Pritzenkaya Foreign Ministry residence of all places.
"Ah."
Ivan nodded with a smile.
A hidden piece. Yes, there should be something like that.
Whether it's a special item or a story breadcrumb. Something hidden from the normal progression path should naturally exist in the "main stage."
Thinking about it that way, it made perfect sense.
Only someone capable of detecting magical traces would be able to read and follow this obvious trail.
Otherwise, the escaped children of the Hero Party would naturally sprint with all their might toward the first floor.
Imagine such a stage.
While evading Dionarr's pursuit and defeating the mercenaries blocking their path, they finally reach the first floor.
If the chapter's design was to have them engage in a final battle with Dionarr and then successfully retreat to the safe urban area.
There would be no reason to search the office at the deepest part of the fifth floor where they were imprisoned. Hence, a hidden piece. A kind of Easter egg.
Thinking this way, everything became clear. Ivan walked without hesitation to the doorknob of the last office at the end.
-Foreign Minister's Office.
Deducing that Foreign Minister Crown Prince Alexandr wouldn't have actually worked here, Ivan expected to find information about Alexandr, or at least something equivalent inside.
-Click.
He turned the doorknob and opened it.
"...!!!"
Ivan immediately threw his axe at the face that appeared through the open door.
-Whoosh!!
The axe passed through the face and flew on, smashing! It shattered the chair and embedded itself in the bookshelf on the opposite wall, tearing it apart.
The man whose face the axe had passed through opened his mouth to speak, with a faint smile.
"I don't think I've seen that expression on you before."
"Alexandr...!!"
"It's been almost 10 years since we last spoke. Come in, Ivan Petrovich."
The tall young man with short silver hair gestured toward him with a bright smile.
Astral projection. And at such a distance that tracking would be impossible.
Ivan gritted his teeth as he stood opposite him, glaring askew.
Four years ago, the order sheet containing the Annihilation Squad's final mission bore two official seals.
The royal seal of Krasilov and,
The seal of the Commander-in-Chief of the Northwestern Front, who was commanding the military in place of the king at that time.
The seal of Alexandr Kirillovich Krasilov.
"You must have many questions, but answer just this one."
"...What is it?"
"If the Lord loves us, why is there still so much evil in the world even now that the Demon King is dead?"
This young man, whom he was meeting face-to-face for the first time in 10 years and in writing for the first time in 4 years, had the same face as 10 years ago and was attempting to enlighten the masses.
Ivan gripped the axe blade until it nearly crushed, grinding his teeth.